


the party goes with you

by akutagi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Businessman/CEO Oikawa, Fluff, Happy Ending, House Party, Inspired by The Great Gatsby, Interviews, Intrigue, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Party, Reporter Sugawara, Roaring 1920s, Sad Oikawa Tooru, Sugawara Koushi-centric, Talking, just a tad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28816854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akutagi/pseuds/akutagi
Summary: “Anything I can help with?” He leaned his left half against the iron rail, fingers tapping his chin.“I’m not sure.”Should I say more?Suga weighed his options, and if he were to get some use out of the night, he needed to start interviewing. “I’m trying to find the host and I have a list of qualities that he might have.”The list was long and the words warped from the spill. “But I think the best characteristic would be anasshole.” He stated, throwing the pad down with a hard slosh.“Well, you’re in luck.” He shifted his free hand, on it was a ring with a similar emblem as the pin Suga had received in the mail days prior. “I would be Tooru Oikawa, or” his smile became less sympathetic and more cunning. “as you would like to call me, an asshole.”---It's the party of the century each and every week. Everyone knows Tooru’s extravagant gatherings, and more importantly everybody wants in.He's rich in ever sense of the word, having everything that money can spend. Exempt from love. In that regard, he doesn't have even a single dime to his name.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	the party goes with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [koshify](https://archiveofourown.org/users/koshify/gifts).



> i blame this fic on my addiction to the vibe of seventeen's home;run
> 
> but this fic is for rin (or @polaarin on twitter) !! its a birthday fic thats uh [looks down at watch] late but heres the story. before this i tried out at least six makoharu aus and i didnt vibe with any. so looking @ your pinned art i thought that maybe an oisuga fic would work better. than this idea came to mind and i couldnt get it out of my head and here we finally are. i hope you like it !! also pspsps yall should check out rins art bc its PHENOMONAL /srs
> 
> title from the musical 35mm and the song with the same name
> 
> anyways heres the fic ! hope you enjoy <3

To say Sugawara didn’t know what he was getting himself into was both a grand understatement as well as a tiny exaggeration.

He had heard whispers and tales all around town in each and every corner. Especially at work, every other reporter wanting to get the scoop of the decade, hell even  _ century _ , yet no one could land it.

That was until, on an average day, something wonderfully impossible came to be. He hadn't expected a letter to arrive at his steps, not to mention the petite cardboard box on his doormat. Rattling the package slightly, it didn’t appear to be fragile, yet he waited until he got settled inside to unravel the mystery.

Grabbing a knife from the kitchen, he made quick work of the pale envelope's side, swiftly leaving a long gash and revealing the paper inside. The outside only had the necessary requirements, lacking a return address, meaning the reporter was itching for answers.

Inside was a paper with golden embroidery framing the words, otherwise tacky on the average person’s stationery, but not the current case. He’d seen that signature before, but just never addressed towards him. Most of the time that curve of the ‘ _ O’  _ and specific form of the word meant business transactions and high profit for all involved.

Scanning over the entire paper, Sugawara was even more confused and perplexed on how it came to his home’s steps.

_ To Koshi Sugawara, _

_ With anticipation do both I and the letter hope you well. We wish that you accept the written invitation so that I am able to replicate it verbally in person. _

_ Here is the information (but as a reporter, you’d already know this, wouldn’t you?):  _

  
  
  


_**Friday, May XX** (arrive at whichever time you see fit). _

_**XXX Johsai Avenue** (recommended side entrance for easy opening, the main door for optimal news story). _

_ No need to call, since I know you’re already planning on attending.  _

  
  


_ Parting words: wear what I put in the box. That’s your golden ticket in. _

_ Yours, _

**_Tooru Oikawa_ **

_ This has to be some sort of mixup,  _ he rationalized. Though that left the letter’s address and intricate details like his field of work still wide open. And if the letter was correct, a few inches away a package also needed to be unraveled.

His hand moved without his better judgment, slowly dragging it towards him. Lifting the same blade above the square no bigger than a cookie container, he took a soft breath in before plunging the sharp device in and making a satisfying tear.

Pulling up the slips ever so slightly, he saw something shimmer in the crack of light. Shifting the box, he wondered if it was something delicate, that he needed extra care in order to extract. Pinching his hand, inside was a golden pin with light patterns and lines on the top, Suga brushing his fingers on top. 

Finally, the build-up had risen to the young reporter’s head, enough to make him winded. Sitting down at the table, he reread the letter. And then went over it three more times, each the probability of it being deliberate and not coincidence going up to his dismay. 

Maybe if he went he’d finally get promoted to a more recognized position, one that didn’t entail meaningless stories and day tasks. He played with the pin in his fingers, flipping it back and forth.  _ Only one way to find out.  _

###

Embarrassingly, Suga hadn’t gone to many parties or events, so attending the most infamous one as a novice was definitely not the smartest in hindsight. Bottom line, he was now at the foot of the estate, camera and paper pad in shaky hands. He’d seen pictures before from magazines and friends enamored by the location, but it was another beast entirely in person.

The castle’s lights rivaled the stars in brightness and shine, maybe even the sun at some points. Waves crashed at the foot of the location, nothing too loud or distracting, but enough to warrant Suga’s attention. Foliage surrounded the estate, some bushes looking like knockoffs of trees due to their size.

Walking in totem with the ups and downs of the strip fountain, passengers started to exit their cars. Some surprised him, and others did not. Trying to write all the names for later while marching to the true action, he accidentally strolled into a figure. 

“Can I help you?” They asked, clearly upset at the interruption of the conversation they’d started with another attendee. Sugawara’s throat and stomach began to shrink and swell as he recognized who it was. None other than the state’s most well-off automobile dealer, a man with so much power that he could end Suga in an instant if he wanted to. He sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case as he apologized and went along. 

Dress shoes tapping against the outside tiles, he finally halted once he saw the stampede on the main stairs, shoving and clawing for first looks inside. Oikawa had been correct in saying the story was on the steps since each guest whispered a rumor or truth about other partygoers mere feet away. Most weren’t enough to land him the front of the paper, so he brushed both the tales and attendees aside, opting for the side door hidden by bush.    
  
He felt wrong by doing so, even though he has the letter in his back pocket, plus the ‘ticket’ pin clipped onto his dark grey suit, emphasizing the boldness of the tiny accessory.

Apparently, the side entrance was actually the front door for the kitchen, large it could rival a restaurant’s. It was filled with chefs and waiters, coming in and out of the doorframe a few steps away. Slipping past, he found himself trapped as the real ‘fun’ began.

_ So, this is what all the fuss is about.  _ The pale marble held up the second floor, encapsulating the whole setting. People strolled up the scarlet carpet that traveled up the staircase that looped around the fair yellow back wall. Chandelier in full effect draped in crystal chains. He was amazed he could even grasp this much as the live band and dancers on the side bustled their way to the front, the rest of the guests coming and moving alongside them.

He was about to join the ensemble before remembering the weight in his hands, both physically and metaphorically. Peering down at his black-toned camera, he whispered out “ _ the story” _ and came back to his senses.  _ I need to find Oikawa. _

That would be hard considering no one knew what his face really was, only that his legacy and name meant money and fortune. Taking a deep breath, he cut through the crowd and up the stairs. Scanning the sea of flashy dresses and classic suits, he tried to use his skills as a reporter to deduce who it couldn’t or could be. 

While making a list of qualities on his notepad, it accidentally got drenched, dripping and sogging in wine when he finally looked up. Two women giggled as they left him in favor of heading upstairs. He held the maroon-tinted paper away before realizing it would need to sit in light if it were to get better. He was about to travel downstairs before an older and bulkier gentleman caught the inside of his arm. 

If he wanted to (which he did), the grip was too much and left him trapped as he was dragged up the steps, heels hitting each slab of carpeted wood. Finally, at the top, Suga was let go and the man motioned for him to do something, though he couldn’t decipher what the charades meant.

After rolling their eyes, he finally put the action into words. “Aren’t you going to take my photo?”  _ What? _

“I beg your pardon?” He asked, clearly perplexed by the command. 

Shoving him away, he whispered “ _ useless newcomer” _ to himself, though Sugawara heard clear as the night sky. There wasn’t much to upstairs that the ground level didn’t already have, say for fewer guests or enough space that you could clearly see the bottom floor instead of small glimpses. 

Why was this so  _ frustrating?  _ He needed some space to think freely by himself. Taking a few steps, he traveled the rim of the room in hopes of a bathroom to shut himself away, until he was thrust through an open door as a dancer moved too hard beside him.

Standing up, he flicked off the dust that clung to him from the fall. He soon understood that he was on the balcony, one from outside Sugawara thought was decorative at first. Closing the door, he leaned his weight on the door handles, taking in breaths of thoughts and hopeful tranquility.

“You seem upset.” A voice spectated, soft and chilled. Out of interest, Sugawara stepped away from the door’s frame and looked at the noise. They weren’t dressed as anything special: deep brown suit with a paler shade tie, hair slightly quaffed up. Everything about him was dark and bruting, but for some reason, the reporter felt like there was something more bright underneath. 

“Frustrated is probably a more fitting word.” He looked back down at the drenched notepad.  _ Yeah, I’d say I’m not in the happiest state. _

“Anything I can help with?” He leaned his left half against the iron rail, fingers tapping his chin.

“I’m not sure.”  _ Should I say more?  _ Suga weighed his options, and if he were to get some use out of the night, he needed to start interviewing. “I’m trying to find the host and I have a list of qualities that he might have.” 

The list was long and the words warped from the spill. “But I think the best characteristic would be an  _ asshole.” _ He stated, throwing the pad down with a hard slosh.

“Well, you’re in luck.” He shifted his free hand, on it was a ring with a similar emblem as the pin Suga had received in the mail days prior. “I would be Tooru Oikawa, or” his smile became less sympathetic and more cunning. “as you would like to call me, an asshole.”

Stunned, he stammered through a rushed apology, taking the handshake too willingly. “I-I’m so sorry.” He was more hoping for an easy out of punishment and life-ruining financial curses than regretful for his words. So far it seemed true because who lets a party like this happen without confronting detestable partygoers.

“If you’re worried I’m going to harm you with fines or any other method, you don’t have to worry.” Eyes drifting around the reporter’s frame, his smile coiled back to the inviting phase as before. “I did invite you here after all, so I should welcome all your words as well.”

Suga didn’t know how to react or respond, so he didn’t. Looking back at the night, the stars had started to arrive at the party as well. 

“Do you like stars, Sugawara?” Oikawa had asked, head turned upwards. 

He dodged the question but didn’t look back just yet. “How did you know I’d find you?”

“Simply put, I didn’t.” 

As Sugawara turned his attention back towards him, another question came to the forefront.  _ Who are you truly? _

“No one ever looks for me. It’s the same as any auto service. You are excited for the chance to ride that car again, the person who fixes that vehicle is simply a blink of an afterthought.” His eyes locked Sugawara’s footing in place, not like he was planning to flee anytime soon. “I’m the distributor and they are loyal consumers.”

“Are you still talking about the party or your business?” It would be difficult to remember all the information without a tangible list, but if he stayed sober then this might be alright. 

Stifling a laugh, he slid a little closer to the reporter. Suga stood his ground. “The party, of course. Why… Do you want my work to plummet?” 

Without needed restriction, he spoke to the head of the countryside’s largest brewery owner like a good friend. “It would make my practice a lot more successful.” 

He was about to apologize again when Oikawa stuck his hand up in a halt. “No need. I like your charisma, or bluntness. Either works really.” He took more steps closer, then suddenly his hands were on Sugawara’s torso, lips breathing onto his neck and the faint smell of champagne now known. He tried to steady his breath, not knowing what to expect. “I should be apologizing, so let me.”

There was a light snap and then Oikawa was back off him, returning to the bars and original spot. He dropped the pin off the side until it blended in with the bushes. “I hope this didn’t cause you too much trouble.” 

“Why would it have?” 

“I host many different people… some who don’t take kindly to those who report on vigilante or illegal work. So, if I wanted you here then you’d need to pose as someone else.”

Suga took a step closer, peering over the rail to read his plain face. “You’re not answering me you know.”

“My staff wears these to mark themselves as average citizens.” Looking at him with the same plain stare, he followed up. “Does that clear it up for you?”

“You  _ what?! _ ” He couldn’t  _ believe  _ that he would be so well-loved by the public when the true version was a beauty above and menace underneath. “Your guests have treated me like useless air since I’ve arrived!-“

“Any other questions, Mr. Sugawara? If not, then you’ve sadly failed my expectations of you.”

“-and another thing!... what?”  _ Expectations? _

Not even trying to control the chuckle, his smile came back with a playful vengeance. “I’ve gotten requested by reporters all over the state for even a glimpse into my celebrations.” There was a pause, then a stare, finally a breath that Sugawara didn’t know he held coming out. “Except you. You are the only one who never once cared and  _ I  _ would like to know why.”

Biting the edge of his lip, he tried to word this in a way that wasn’t too blunt or dangerous. “Everyone’s attached themselves to your story. There was no way I’d even get a chance compared to my seniors.”

Oikawa hummed, tapping his fingers while looking overhead. “Yet here you are.”

Sugawara leaned against the cold bars. “Yet here I am.”

“Something you must know is that I’m a very curious person. So, let me ask you this…. How are you going to spin the story?”

“Excuse me?”  _ What did that even mean? _

“What will I read on the front paper during the next run? Will you talk about how rude you were treated? Or maybe center it about me and my character.” Oikawa’s eyes went low, trying to get a rile. “Will you create a fictional story to fool the public?”

“My job is not about a catchy title or storytelling, thank you.” He crossed over his arms, upset at the notation. “It’s about the truth.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you.” His voice sounded sincere enough, though Sugawara could feel like teasing didn’t go under that apology.

Both didn’t talk for a few seconds, each passing one feeling longer than the last. Suga was the one who ultimately picked up the conversation, speaking in a hushed tone. “We both say sorry quite a lot don’t we.”

“Yes, I suppose we do.” The familiar silence coming back over.

_ Say something else.  _ “Could I ask you out for an interview?” This was either going to go perfectly or tumble his professional persona.

“Hm?” Oikawa asked, hair slightly tripping as his head tipped.

“Over dinner, to get the full story. One night.” His face must be tinting pink, feeling warmer and flushed.

His words tethered on playfulness and curiosity. “This sounds strangely like a date if I’m not mistaken.”

“Well, you are wrong. This is strictly professional and for work.”  _ That’s all it will be. _

A coy smile appeared, he spoke with certainty. “Of course.”

“So, is that a yes?”

“Only if I get to choose the location.” Putting his hand out once more, his eyes became more shiny and polished. “If I’m to be interrogated, I’d at least want it to be comfortable.”

Taking this hand in his own, he mustered his best smile, which wasn’t hard. “Not an interrogation. Dialogue. I want the best story, and I don’t think the party is the best approach.”

“Oh really?” Oikawa’s brain was rattling, chasing each idea that came in.

“Mhm.” His palm felt heavy, like he was holding on for stability. “I want to know more about you and what the true Tooru Oikawa has in store.”

The blush treaded up to the richer gentleman, eyes shone down at their locked hands. “I hope it’s something that gives you the deserved recognition.”

Losing the shake, both were saddened by the absent contact. Before Sugawara left for his exit, he spoke parting words that made Oikawa’s heart pinch and ache with warmth. “Even if it doesn’t….For my own comfort, I’d like to know more about you.” Then the doors open and shut, leaving Oikawa in the lone night.

As he watched Sugawara stroll off and away, he sent a phantom toast off to him. And with no longer here, the party fled off with the reporter, leaving Oikawa wondering where their story would lead to. 

**Author's Note:**

> i have comms up incase that peaks your interest 
> 
> regardless thank you for reading !! v much appreciated
> 
> @akutagi on twitter


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